


Don't Say A Word

by Aerowax26



Series: Eyes Baptized in Mercury [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Drugged Sex, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sexual Assault, Murder, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Relationship, Sexual Assault, Strangling, Threats of Violence, Threats/Blackmail, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerowax26/pseuds/Aerowax26
Summary: Gladio never thought he'd become a victim, but when a respected combat instructor won't take no for an answer, he learns that the price of silence is steep, and even the mighty can fall.Side story to "Every Broken Thing." Set during Brotherhood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I didn't plan on posting this yet, but I couldn't get the thing out of my head. This is Gladio's backstory mentioned in "Every Broken Thing." It's not necessary to read the main work to understand this, but the two go hand in hand. 
> 
> Expect 3 chapters. Please read the tags. If there's something I missed, please let me know.

  
 

 

 

In hindsight, it started innocently enough. The warning signs were there from the beginning, but Gladio, eager to train with one of the Crownsguard's best, overlooked them. Because who would believe someone so well respected and liked was a monster hiding behind a stellar reputation?

Castille Malus was a legend. There was no one better at hand-to-hand combat, and he had taken a special interest in Gladio. Malus selected only the best to mentor.

“It's an honor to train with him, Gladio,” his father said. “I hope you understand that.”

Of course Gladio understood. He was honored and grateful for the chance to better his skills.

In hindsight, it started the _first day_. 

“Show me a defensive posture,” Malus said.

Gladio demonstrated, his left hand near his face, his right held low, knees slightly bent, the way Cor had taught him.

“Hmm,” Malus said. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

Malus came closer and adjusted the position of Gladio's arms.

“Loosen up those joints,” Malus said. “You're stiff as a board.”

Gladio relaxed. A little.

“Up until this point, your training has focused on power and strength,” Malus said. “We are going to focus on incapacitating with a minimum amount of effort. The point is not to throw the most punches but to take out an opponent in as few moves as possible. Strategy over brute force. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Malus put his hands on Gladio's waist and shifted his left hip forward.

“Bend your knees a little.”

Gladio did. Then stiffened again when Malus' hand glided over his ass cheek. It lingered for a second, then Malus took a step back.

“Good,” Malus said. “That's better. Now, show me a punch.”

Gladio was a head taller, twenty years younger, and outweighed Malus by at least 50 pounds, but he left that first training session feeling like he got his ass handed to him.

That was a good thing. There was no one Gladio could say that about besides Ignis.  Ignis might not be as strong or as big, but was fast and deadly and could kick Gladio's ass all the way from Lucis to Accordo if he wasn't paying attention.

But he also left with a bit of uncertainty.

Was it just his imagination, or had the guy copped a feel?

 

* * *

 

  
From day one, their training was contact-heavy.  Which was no surprise. Between tossing Noct around in his daily training and sparring with Ignis, Gladio was used to a fair amount of physical contact during sessions.

For two hours a day, Gladio practiced throws and grappled with Malus. He learned a lot in those first few months. How to incapacitate. How to kill with his bare hands.

That was a lesson he hoped he would never need, but there was a war on, and the Empire's shadow grew larger by the day. There might come a time when it would save his life.

He learned some other valuable lessons as well.

Including that his mentor was handsy. At least once a session the guy would touch him in a way that left him perplexed and uncomfortable, but never quite long enough to seem really inappropriate. And it wasn't like Gladio had never accidentally cupped a palm full of ass or squeezed an inner thigh a little too high up while grappling. That shit happened in training all the time.

If it came to a life or death situation, it wouldn't matter who touched who where. All that mattered was who came out of it alive.

He decided he was making too much of it. It was part of the training, getting up close and personal. He needed to chill. It wasn't a big deal.

* * *

 

“How are your lessons with Captain Grab-Ass going?” Cor asked one afternoon.

“What?” Gladio laughed. “You mean Malus?”

“He's got a reputation for not paying attention to what he grabs,” Cor said with a shrug. “Or so I hear.”

“Yeah, he does kinda do that,” Gladio agreed with a laugh to hide his discomfort. “Everybody call him that?”

“Not to his face.”

Cor was the first to mention it, but he wasn't the last. He overheard guys in the locker room joking about it. Everyone had a story about the time Malus palmed their balls or touched their ass.

They all cracked-wise about it. They respected the hell out of the guy, but they laughed at him, too, and to Gladio, that meant it really wasn't anything to worry about.

But he noticed it even more after that. Sometimes a hand lingered in a sensitive place too long. Sometimes a grab was more like a caress. Every now and then, lips might graze his neck.

It was uncomfortable and confusing, but Gladio brushed it off when it happened and focused on learning as much as he could from the man.

* * *

 

  
They were alone one afternoon, wrestling on the mat when Gladio felt something against his hip.

There was no mistaking what it was.

Gladio was no stranger to inexplicable boners. It happened to him all the time, often without provocation or stimulation. It was just hormones, or whatever. A body's conditioned response to physical contact.

Perfectly normal.

Embarrassing, but normal.

What was not normal was the way the man pressed his dick into Gladio's hip and held tighter. Like he wanted to make sure Gladio felt it.

He didn't know what to do. He'd never been in a situation like this. Iggy dry-humping him on the couch was one thing. They were seeing each other on the sly, maybe not yet fucking, but getting close, and Ignis wasn't 20 years his senior.

Should he say something? Or was this just Captain Grab-Ass being totally unaware of boundaries like everyone said?

The entire Crownsguard respected this man. They had almost nothing bad to say about him, save all the jokes about his wandering hands. Otherwise, Malus was deadly, friendly, and smart, and the kind of guy every member of the Crownsguard wanted on their side.

When Malus pulled away, he tossed Gladio a towel and a bottle of water.

Like nothing happened.

Maybe Gladio was just making something out of nothing. Maybe the surprise of it all made it seem worse than it was.

Maybe it really was innocent.

Unintentional.

Maybe Gladio's worries were just frustrated, paranoid teenage hormones running amok.

 

* * *

 

It happened again a week later. Gladio stewed about it all day, not sure what he should do, or if he should even say anything about it. Though there were plenty of stories and jokes, no one ever mentioned the guy liked to hump his students. And what he'd done this time was a lot closer to humping than the first.

Gladio brooded well into the evening, until Ignis messaged him, late as usual.

_Come by if you have a moment._

Ignis was just the thing to take his mind off of it. Maybe tonight would be the night.  He hoped so. Handjobs and blow jobs were amazing, but he wanted more.  He wanted _Ignis_.  All of him. Body and soul.  

He slipped out of his room and into the hall. The light in his father's study was on and he peeked inside. Clarus was not behind the desk but in one of the over-sized, comfortable chairs by the window with a book in his grip.

Satisfied his father was too distracted to notice his exit, Gladio padded through the living room on light feet and reached for the doorknob.

“Where do you think you're going?”

Gladio jumped, but turned around to face his father. He went to his default excuse.

“Ignis wants me to hear the speech he wrote for that thing Noct is doing at the children's home next week,” he said.

“You can't hear it tomorrow?” Clarus asked. “It's after nine.”

“You know how Iggy can be,” Gladio said. “He'll just stress about it if I don't.”

“That boy is going to give himself a heart attack before he turns twenty,” Clarus said, almost fondly.

“You ain't lyin',” Gladio said and held back a smile. “Gotta do my part to keep him focused.”

“Fine,” Clarus said. “But no later than eleven, Gladio. I mean it.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio said.

His dad _didn't_ mean it. He never meant it, even when Gladio tiptoed back to his room at one in the morning and got caught. All Clarus ever did was shake his head and wake Gladio half an hour early as punishment.

He stepped into the hall and closed the door. Grinned to himself. Ignis' need for perfection could be a pain in the ass, but damned if it didn't come in handy sometimes. As far as he knew, no one suspected what they were really up to.

Ignis was still in his dress slacks, but his vest was unbuttoned and his shirt was un-tucked. His hair was slightly messy and strands fell into his eyes.

Prim and Proper Ignis was good, but Gladio was particularly fond of unkempt Iggy. Gladio liked Iggy best a little less than put together. He loved seeing him come undone.

Gladio kissed Iggy on the mouth, eager to make the most of their time together, but the press of Iggy's arousal against his thigh reminded him of the most recent incident with Malus.

It bothered him so much, he pushed Ignis away.

“Hey, uh, Iggy?” Gladio began. “Can I ask you somethin'?”

“Of course,” Ignis said. “Is something wrong?”

Gladio sat down on the couch and rested his forearms against his thighs.

“I'm not sure,” Gladio said. “Have you heard anything about Castille Malus? About him being kinda hands-on?”

“He's a hand-to-hand combat instructor,” Ignis said. “I'd imagine it requires a great deal of physical contact.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“If you're referring to his unfortunate nick-name,” Ignis said, “it's common knowledge.”

“What do you make of that?”

“The way I hear it, he doesn't seem aware he's doing it,” Ignis said. “Why? Is something the matter?”

“I don't know,” Gladio said. “It's just... you hear any rumors about him crossing the line?”

“I can't say as I have,” Ignis said. “Has he made you uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, a little,” Gladio said. He flashed Ignis a bashful grin. “He rubbed his dick on my leg a couple times.”

Ignis' eyes widened.

“On purpose?”

“It seemed like it at the time, but now I'm not so sure,” Gladio said. He scratched his chin. He needed a shave. “I don't know what to think.”

“Did he come on to you?”

“Naw. Acted like it didn't even happen.”

Ignis squeezed Gladio's knee. Gladio's concerns melted away.

“If he's aware, I suspect he's ashamed of it. If not, I wouldn't be too concerned,” Ignis says. His smile became coy. “Perhaps he finds you attractive.”

Gladio brushed a thumb along Ignis' bottom lip. Ignis' face softened and he leaned into Gladio's touch. A pang of want pulsed in Gladio's groin.

“Too bad. I'm spoken for.”

“Are you?”

Teasing. Playful. Gladio loved getting to see this side of Ignis. Nobody else knew that part of him existed. Gladio considered himself blessed to be the one he showed it to.

“Mmm.”

“You sound uncertain.”

“Positive.”

“Good,” Ignis said. He leaned in, his lips hovering an inch from Gladio's. “Now, do you plan to talk all night or...?”

Gladio needed no other encouragement.

After all, Iggy was the boss.

 

* * *

   
For nearly a full year, nothing really inappropriate happened. Just more of the same. Sure, the guy was hands-on, and sure, sometimes those hands wandered to places that made Gladio uncomfortable, but there was so _much_ to learn from him.

He was eighteen and had every confidence he'd be able to perform his duties as Noctis' shield with ease. Malus reported to Gladio's father that he was doing well. Called him his best student.

And Gladio was proud of that. Flattered. He worked hard. Trained hard. It was no small thing to be so highly praised by someone everyone held in such high esteem.

Then, it got weird again.

One afternoon, Gladio found himself flat on his back, Malus lying above him, pinning him to the mat, and this time, it was obvious what he wanted.

“The hell do you think you're doin'?” Gladio growled. “Cut it out.”

“I'm sorry,” Malus said. “I thought maybe... I guess I misread you.”

But Malus didn't move.

“I'm sorry, but I find you incredibly attractive.”

The way he said it wasn't predatory. It was more like a schoolboy confessing to a crush. Malus' cheeks flushed pink and he cast his eyes shyly away, but he didn't move.

“I'd like to take you out sometime. Maybe... dinner at my place?”

There was something insidious about a man his age hitting on someone so much younger than himself, and something reckless about coming on to someone with such high standing in the court. He had to know if he made one false move, Gladio could destroy him in more ways than one.

“Thanks, but I'm seeing someone,” Gladio said. “He doesn't like to share.”

Malus dropped the shy schoolboy act and carded his fingers through Gladio's sweat-soaked hair. Lust filled his dark eyes.

“We don't have to tell him.”

“Get off me.”

Malus hopped to his feet and handed Gladio a bottle of water, just as he did after every training session ended. He smiled like he wasn't just hella inappropriate with the son of the King's Shield.

Gladio twisted the cap off the bottle and watched warily from a safe distance.

“I want to focus on defense,” Malus said. “Your offense is solid, but you can be as strong as a behemoth, but if you can't defend yourself, you can't defend your future King.”

Gladio was thrown by the abrupt shift in tone and subject.

“Your father will be pleased to hear how well you're doing.”

He couldn't help but be happy to hear it, even if he was still unsettled. He wanted his father's approval. He wanted Clarus Amicitia to be proud of him.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “Great.”

He felt like he should say something, to warn this guy off. Or tell someone about it, but he wasn't sure how. Gladio seemed to be the only one upset by his behavior. He seemed to be the only one who didn't find the touching funny.

If he said anything, would his concerns be dismissed?

_Don't worry about it. He does it to everyone._

_Captain Grab-Ass strikes again._

But Gladio was worried.

Even so, he pushed the incident out of his mind and cleaned up for the day, a bad feeling building in the pit of his stomach that stayed with him much longer than made sense. 

 

* * *

 

When Noctis turned fifteen, Gladio was given the task of keeping the birthday boy from bailing on his own party. It was an honor to be asked, and it marked his first official job as Noct's Shield.

Gladio was proud. His father was proud. This was his calling and his duty to his future King, and Gladio would do his very best to live up to his father's expectations.

The Gala was not Noct's cup of tea and he was in no mood to be social. He was sullen and quiet and hated the attention. If given the chance, he would take off and go hide out in his room to play games on his phone. Gladio's main task was to keep that from happening, whether Noct liked it or not.

Gladio did have some sympathy for him. It was his birthday, but the only friends in attendance were Gladio and Ignis. Now that both had taken on additional responsibilities besides just companions, Noct viewed them as a pair of oppressive babysitters rather than friends.

Ignis thought Noctis might be depressed. Gladio thought it was a combination of things. Depression, but also laziness. Noct's lazy streak ran a mile wide. Without the two of him on his back all the time, Gladio doubted Noctis would get out of bed at all.

It didn't help that Noctis was lonely. He didn't have to say it for Gladio to see how alienated he was from his classmates. It wouldn't hurt the kid to make a friend or two, but Noctis wasn't the most outgoing person in the world, and he was a lot more sensitive than he let on.

Gladio watched his sulky charge from across the room and thought maybe it was time for a talking to. Not tonight, but soon. Noctis couldn't keep expecting Ignis to clean up his messes or take the blame for his nighttime adventures, no matter how innocent they might be.

Noctis hung back, half hidden between two potted pants like he wished to disappear into their leaves or blend into the wallpaper. He was too far from the door to attempt escape, so Gladio let his eyes drift around the room until they found Ignis, chatting up some politician from Lestallum.

Gladio softened at the sight of his best friend turned lover looking like a politician or diplomat himself, holding his own in what appeared to be a riveting conversation.

If he knew Iggy, it was about something mundane, like the current market value of Eos Peas and their impact on the climate of the Vesperpool.

Not much was happening. Gladio hated these events, especially now that he was older. At best, the patrons treated him like a bodyguard. At worst, he was his father's son and still a child, even though he was eighteen and towered over everyone in the room, including Cor.

Gladio was so bored, he was almost grateful when Malus approached with a drink.

“On duty,” Gladio says. “Can't indulge.”

“It's just sparkling water.”

Gladio accepted the drink. He took a sip from the glass and realized how thirsty he was. He'd been so diligent in his duty, he'd forgotten to tend to his own needs. Looking after Noct was a full time job.

The water had a slight bitter edge to it, a combination of the carbonation and the lime floating among the ice cubes, he supposed. Gladio drank it down and wished for a refill.

“How is the Prince's training going?” Malus asked. “I look forward to seeing his progress.”

“Eh,” Gladio said and watched Noctis pick the lettuce off a finger sandwich and toss it into the dirt of the potted plant. “He's coming along.”

“I'm sure he's doing well under your tutelage.”

Gladio couldn't put his finger on why, but he was suddenly uncomfortable. It made no sense. They were in a room full of people, and Malus was not close enough to harm him.

"My offer still stands," Malus said.

"What offer?" Gladio asked distractedly.

His vision blurred.  Like he had gummy vestiges of sleep in his eye.  He blinked it away.  

"Dinner?  My place?" Malus said.  "Maybe later, when you're off duty for the night?"

Ignis caught his eye and Gladio forgot all about Malus and his invitation for a second. He and Iggy already had plans to be alone later, after this farce of a party was over.

Ignis got his own apartment when he was sixteen, but Gladio only recently moved into a one-bedroom down the hall. They didn't have to be so careful now or come up with lame excuses about why Gladio stayed out so late.

Man, he looked forward to Ignis spending the night. The novelty of using the bed for both sex and sleep was still new and exciting.

He returned Iggy's glance with a secret, loaded smile.

 _Later_ , it promised. _Later_.

“Ah, so it's Ignis, is it?” Malus said. “Not who I pictured you with, but I can see the appeal. He's grown into quite the attractive young man.”

Gladio turned his attention back to Malus. He disliked the man's tone and he hated the insinuation that he'd find a seventeen-year-old attractive. Even if that seventeen-year-old sometimes behaved like a middle-aged man he was still only seventeen.

“He also has a brain,” Gladio said. His fingers started to tingle. “Something _you_ don't seem to be using, since I clearly told you no already.”

Malus smiled. He lifted his glass like he was giving a toast.

"You didn't exactly say no," Malus said with a smile.  "Tell you what.  The three of us can have dinner and see what happens.  What to you say?"  

"Hell no," Gladio said.  "Is that clear enough for you?"  

He swallowed down the last of the water and set the glass aside.  

“Apologies. I forget myself around attractive young men,” Malus said. A slow, conspiratorial grin cut across his face. “Does your father know?”

Now that sounded like a threat.

No one in their right mind threatened an Amicitia.

No one.

“Listen-” Gladio began, but his head began to swim and his vision blurred worse than before.

Malus laid his hand against Gladio's arm. Overcome with a sudden and unexpected weakness, Gladio leaned back against the wall to get his bearings.

Something wasn't right. Maybe something he'd sampled from the buffet earlier wasn't so fresh. Maybe he was coming down with the flu or a stomach bug.

Maybe -

“You okay?” he asked. “You don't look so hot.”

Gladio's legs were made of rubber. His heart raced. He broke out into a cold sweat. His breathing was too shallow. His head felt like it was expanding, balloon-like, like he might float away and out into space.

He blinked to clear his vision. Focused on Malus.

“Come on,” Malus said gently, but it rang false. “Why don't we get you some fresh air?”

Gladio only nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the ballroom and into the hall. Something about this was so very, very wrong, but he couldn't afford to collapse or barf in front of all those important people. Not on his first time out as a future king's Shield.

He wanted to ask Malus to find his dad, but it was hard to focus on a particular thought for more than a second. He was too busy trying to keep his legs moving.

_Left. Right. Left. Right._

Even that turned out to be too complicated.  He stumbled into the wall, almost tripped on a runner of carpet, had to rely on Malus to stay vertical.  Malus, the man he'd been trying to avoid in the first place.

He wondered if Ignis would be a little drunk when he showed up at Gladio's door later. Adults always poured alcohol down Iggy's throat at these things.  Like they all forgot Igins wasn't actually 40.  Gladio's own father was guilty of it from time to time.  

After a drink or two, Ignis let go of his inhibitions and opened up to suggestions he might not normally agree to without a bit of liquid courage. Gladio enjoyed drunk Ignis.  A lot. Drunk Ignis was sexy and hilarious and _fun_.

Man.  Iggy gave the best blow jobs when he was a little drunk. Drunk Iggy wasn't afraid to go for it and do nasty and wonderful things to Gladio's body.   

Gladio looked forward to that.  

And he would bet anything Noct had already slipped out the other door, in the opposite direction, bound for some dark corner where he could waste his life away playing games while people he barely knew celebrated his birth.

Gladio couldn't remember where they were going or why, but he wanted to lay down. He couldn't remember ever feeling this weak, except maybe when Cor had blasted him in training with a sleep and a stop spell at the same time. His legs didn't want to move. His eyes didn't want to stay open.

A door opened. A light came on.

An office?

Malus pushed Gladio down onto a couch. Gladio flopped back onto the arm rest and closed his eyes against the starry bluish-white haze swimming around the periphery of his vision. He needed to get back to the ballroom. Noct would notice he was gone and take advantage.

He tried to sit up, but his body was weighed down with concrete blocks. His hands would not move when he commanded them to.

“What-” he tried to ask, but the sound that came out was a low moan instead.

Why was he so tired?  Why couldn't he think straight?  

“Just relax,” Malus said. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

And then -

The distinct sound of a lock turning.

As loud as a gunshot.

The loudest sound Gladio had ever heard in his life.

And he knew.

Oh, _fuck_.

He knew.

“... _no_.”

Hands slid up his thighs, to the button of his trousers. Gladio tried in vain to sit up and push him away, but his body was numb, from head to toe and his eyelids were so heavy, the world narrowed to a thin sliver of amber light.

“Shh. It's alright.”

“No,” Gladio tried again. He pushed ineffectively at Malus' shoulders. “ _Stop_.”

His shoes came off, his pants, underwear, and then something warm and wet surrounded his dick, a mouth, the tongue swirling around the head and lapping at the sensitive skin along the shaft, sucking sounds, fingers stroking and pressing into his taint.

Moisture spilled from the corners of Glado's eyes, a stinging wetness that rolled over his temples and into his ears. What part of _no_ didn't this asshole understand?

This could not be happening. This was some kind of sick, confused fever dream. Not reality. Not _his_ reality.

Malus dropped his full weight against Gladio's chest. A tongue, damp and alien, teased his lips apart.

“Just relax and you'll enjoy this.”

Gladio fought with all his might to keep his legs pressed tight together, but whatever was wrong with him, he was too impaired to resist.

This had to be some kind of bad dream. One he would wake up from and breath a sigh of relief that it was over, that it wasn't real, that it never, ever happened.

Malus settled himself between Gladio's open thighs and fresh tears spilled down the sides of Gladio's face as something blunt and hard pressed against his asshole.

_No. Fuck, no._

He tried one last time to free himself, lifted an arm that only obeyed long enough to hover stupidly at his side, and then it was pinned back against the armrest above his head.

“Please.”

There was no mercy for Gladio.

There was no pain, either, only a tearing-stretching sensation as Malus pushed his way inside.

A weak sob burst from Gladio's mouth, a sound Malus mistook for desire. His mouth descended toward Gladio's jaw, and moaned in his ear.

“That's it.  Just relax.  Let me do all the work."

A wave of nausea rippled through him as Malus eased himself deeper. Gladio, desperate to put a stop to this, opened his mouth and with the very last of his strength, _screamed_.

The scream was cut short by a firm hand against his lips and by the encroaching and welcome darkness of unconsciousness.

Gladio would never know how long he was out, a few seconds, minutes, or even hours, but when he opened his eyes again, Malus was kneeling between his legs, rocking into him, his thrusts hard and steady and so unbearable, Gladio started to scream again.

His scream faded into a pathetic whimper as Malus' hand landed against his lips to silence him.  That sound wouldn't reach past the locked door.  

_I'm so sorry, Iggy. I'm so sorry._

For their ruined plans. For _this_. For what it was going to do to them.

Gladio thought of how nice it would be to wake up and find himself wrapped around Ignis' long, lean, muscular body. Warm. Comfortable. _Safe_. He would blow Iggy awake, kiss that gorgeous mouth, fuck him senseless, and forget all about this awful, awful dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments, guys. Appreciate you!

Gladio opened his eyes, unsure of where he was, alone, naked, and sick to his stomach. He slid off the couch to the waste basket next to the desk and vomited into it, freezing and feverish at the same time.

Only when he'd emptied the contents of his stomach, and he lay down on the carpeted floor did he remember. Parts of it, anyway.

Did he dream it?

He didn't want to know.

But the rawness between his ass cheeks and the ache in his balls said enough.

He curled up on his side and folded his arms around his middle, somehow both numb and shattered at the same time. How the fuck had this happened? To him?

His father was going to be pissed he left his post. Ignis would lecture him about the importance of his position. As if he didn't already know.

Neither would believe something like this could happen to a guy like him. How the fuck would he tell them, anyway?

Gradually, his mental paralysis wore off and he sat up and tried to ignore the bruised tenderness in his ass. His legs shook when he stood, but the room didn't spin and his stomach didn't roll. He could half-focus on things in the room.

The desk. The bookshelf. The lamp.

The couch.

Something stained the fine, burgundy fabric. Crusty. White.

In a panic, Gladio scrubbed at the stain with the sleeve of his shirt. Scrubbed until the mark faded and all that was left behind was a hint of discoloration.

Gone.  It was gone.  Good.

The time surprised him. Not going on daybreak as he anticipated but just past midnight.

With shaking, uncoordinated hands he gathered the rest of his clothes and dressed, then sat gingerly on the couch, the scene of the crime, when he grew too dizzy to stand.

_I'm going to kill that motherfucker. I'm going to fucking destroy him._

Rage was the only thing that propelled Gladio up off the couch and out of the office. He limped back to his apartment on shaking legs, still unable to walk in a straight line and intoxicated enough to bump into potted palms and pedestals topped with decorative statues and vases.

He encountered not another soul until he reached the family wing.

And his father was waiting. Red-faced, steely-eyed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Clarus demanded.

Gladio forgot how to speak. He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing coherent came out, just a deep, raspy croak that was meant to be an apology.

Clarus stepped closer and lifted one of Gladio's swollen eyelids. Gladio pulled back, lost his footing and stumbled backward into the wall.

“Six almighty,” Clarus said. “You're drunk.”

Gladio hadn't had a drop. Not one single drop. He wanted to deny it, but it maybe it was better to let his father believe he got wasted than to tell him the truth.

They would think he was weak. Of they knew the truth, everyone he knew would lose faith in him.  

It was better this way.

“You were on duty, Gladio,” Clarus said. His father visibly trembled. His voice was low and made of steel. “You swore an oath.”

“M'sorry,” Gladio choked out.

“You have no idea how much you've disappointed me tonight.”

Gladio sniffled and dropped his face into his palms. Bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood to keep from crying again.

“We'll discuss this tomorrow,” Clarus said. “Go sleep it off.”

Gladio struggled to open his apartment door but he managed. He bypassed the couch, as inviting as it looked and stumbled into the bath. He turned on the water as hot as it would go and sat down on the toilet to undress.

Evidence. He was about to destroy the evidence. No evidence meant it didn't happen.

He never thought he needed to worry about shit like this. Gladio was 6'6” and made of pure muscle. He was Clarus Amicitia's son. Only someone with a death wish would mess with him.

And yet here he was. No better off than a frightened little boy.

Overwhelmed with a need to wash the man's touch and spit and cum off his skin, to wash it away forever and erase any trace he might have left behind, Gladio vowed to put all of this to the back of his mind and lock it away forever. In the meantime, he'd make sure he was strong enough, tough enough, and smart enough that no one with a functioning brain cell would ever lay a hand on him again.

Too dizzy to stand, he sat down in the shower under a boiling hot stream and let it burn his skin raw. He sobbed quietly into his knees until his eyes ran dry and the water grew cold.

Shivering now, he turned off the shower and crawled out of the bath and onto the floor. He lay against the cold tile and considered sleeping there. His face was hot, but the rest of him was freezing. The bed was better. He'd crawl into it, bundle himself in the blankets he never used, insulate himself, build himself a cocoon of warmth and protection the way he used to after his mother passed.

With great effort, he dried himself, stood up, and used the wall for support on his way to the bedroom, which might as well have been on the other side of Insomnia for all the effort it took to get there.

Ignis was in his bed.

 _Waiting_.

He'd forgotten all about their plans.

Ignis said nothing. He looked Gladio over, cold anger in his green eyes, and it hurt. He hated when Iggy looked at him like that.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Ignis asked.

Gladio started to laugh and sagged against the wall. There was nothing funny about it. But Gladio could either laugh or cry his eyes out and he'd already run out of tears.

“Dereliction of duty is funny to you?”

“Shut up, Iggy,” Gladio slurred. “Not in the mood for a fuckin' lecture.”

Ignis slid out of bed. Gladio's heart gave a squeeze of regret. Ignis hadn't a stitch on.

Gods, he was beautiful.

“Have it your way,” Ignis said. “Good night, Gladiolus.”

Aww, fuck.

Iggy only called him Gladiolus when he was really, really pissed off.

“Don't go,” Gladio said. “Please.”

Gladio pressed his hands to his face and almost lost it again. If there was anyone who could make this better, it was Ignis.

“I never realized you were such an emotional drunk,” Ignis said. “What's gotten into you?”

Gladio sighed and slumped onto the bed. He pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. Took a slow, deep breath and exhaled. Wasn't sure if he wanted to be sick again or pass out. Definitely wanted to lay down so the room would stop spinning.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Gladio said. “Just... don't leave.”

Ignis sat down and turned Gladio's face toward his. Light fingers brushed over his forehead and down his cheek. Soft lips pressed against his.

Gladio didn't deserve it, but he accepted the kiss. He leaned his forehead into Iggy's shoulder and closed his eyes.

_Gods, I'm sorry, Iggy. I don't know how to tell you._

_But please._

_Please. Please don't go anywhere._

* * *

 

  
Ignis stayed. Gladio might have cried a little. Maybe. Leaving Ignis baffled, especially when Gladio refused his advances in favor of snuggling into Iggy's chest. He fell asleep there in the circle of Ignis' arms, wishing for all the world he could go back and refuse that goddamned drink.

He should have known better.

When he woke, Ignis was gone and his father stood at the end of the bed, his face full of barely concealed fury.

Gladio sat up, immediately aware of the throbbing pain in his head and the sour bubbling in his stomach. The sheets still smelled of Iggy's cologne.

“Get up,” Clarus said. “You're late for training.”

No fucking way was he going back to train with that guy. He would never be within 100 yards of him if Gladio had any say in it.

“Not going.”

“Get out of bed. Now, Gladio.”

“I'll train, but not with him,” Gladio said through clenched teeth. “I'm done.”

Clarus frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I'm not training with Malus anymore.”

“Care to explain why?”

He couldn't say _because the bastard drugged and raped me_. Not to his father. Not to anyone else.

“Personal preference.”

Gladio pushed to his feet and his head started to spin. He was going to be sick.

He lurched for the wastebasket, grabbed it just in time, and vomited up nothing but bile.

Behind him, Clarus sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Gladio to stop retching.

“I am _very_ disappointed in you, Gladio,” Clarus said. “It's one thing to experiment with alcohol in your downtime, but when you're on the job, it isn't acceptable. Do you understand that? Noctis' life could have been endangered because of that decision.”

Gladio hung his head over the wastebasket, spat the foul taste of bile from his mouth and fought back a second wave of nausea.

“Maybe you're not ready to accept the responsibility.”

“I am, Dad,”Gladio said thickly. “I'm ready.”

“Your actions last night prove otherwise.”

The nausea passed and he sat back, wiped his mouth, and wished he could curl up on the floor and die.

“Sorry I let you down,” Gladio muttered. “Won't happen again.”

 

* * *

 

Gladio stayed in bed most of the day, equal parts miserable and ashamed. Ignis brought him soup just after suppertime, with crackers and a few bottles of sports drinks to keep him hydrated.

His stomach was still sour, but the barfing stopped not long after his father left him to his own misery.

“Thanks, Iggy,” Gladio said tiredly from his nest of pillows and blankets. “I don't deserve you.”

“It's nothing special. Came from a can," Ignis said. “I didn't have time to prepare something from scratch, I'm afraid.”

“It's the thought that counts.”

Ignis cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Care to explain what you were thinking, drinking on the job like that?”

Gladio sighed and burrowed back into the safety of the blankets.

“Guess I just didn't think it would hit me so hard,” Gladio lied.

“You should have known better than to drink at all.”

“Dad already gave me the speech, Igs,” Gladio said. “Don't need it from you, too.”

Ignis stood up and pried the lid off the bowl. It smelled good, but Gladio's stomach rolled. He knew he wouldn't keep it down.

“Eat something,” Ignis said. “I'll check on you in the morning.”

Gladio didn't eat. He dumped the contents of the bowl into the toilet and flushed it, unable to stomach the idea of eating when his guts felt like they'd been dipped in battery acid.

The next day, when he returned the container, he lied and told Ignis it helped. 

* * *

Two days later, Gladio decided to go see Malus. Not to train. He'd never subject himself to that again.

No, Gladio wanted answers.

Maybe some payback.

He stormed down to the training room, his resolve firm and his temper rising. Now that he was feeling better, the fury had set in like wildfire. It burned hot in his blood, a rage so pure, the closer he got, the more it threatened to consume him.

He burst into the room, ready for a fight. Malus smiled like they were long-lost friends.

“Ah, if it isn't my favorite student,” Malus said. “I've missed you the last couple of days.”

_Missed you._

“Fuck you.”

Gladio took a swing. Malus deflected it with ease.

“That would have been perfect if you hadn't telegraphed your attack.”

Gladio shoved him. Malus stumbled back, still smiling, and circled around like he did when they sparred. Like it was no big deal. Like he wasn't some disgusting, predatory monster.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Gladio growled. “You rape me and act like everything's fine?!”

“Rape is a strong word,” Malus said. “Perhaps you shouldn't throw it around so lightly. As I recall, you were into it.”

Gladio shoved him again. He stumbled back, but didn't fall.

“I said _no_. I fucking _begged_ you to stop.”

“Did you?” Malus said. “I don't remember you saying a word.”

Gladio threw another punch, and this time it connected. His fist smashed into Malus' jaw and something in his hand cracked. The pain was blinding, but Gladio had been hurt worse before. He shook it off, swung again and missed.

“You drugged me, you fucking piece of shit,” Gladio howled. “I couldn't fight back.”

Malus rubbed his chin where Gladio struck him, but he smiled.

“What a dilemma,” Malus said. “If you say anything, they'll find out you're not fit to be young Noctis's shield.”

“Shut up!”

“Ignis seems like the fragile sort, doesn't he?” Malus said. “It would break his heart to know you've been unfaithful.”

Gladio saw red. If he could get his hands on the guy, he would kill him, damned be the consequences.

“Leave Iggy out of this,” Gladio said. “I swear to the Gods, if you lay one fucking finger on him -”

“How are you to protect young Noctis if you can't even protect yourself, Gladio?”

“Shut up!”

But his accusation hit Gladio hard. A weak Shield had no place beside a future King. That was the reality, and Gladio clearly fell short of the mark.

“Who will they believe?” Malus asked. “The man with an stellar reputation, or the boy who got drunk his first time out?”

“Don't threaten me,” Gladio said. “My father-”

“Do you have any witnesses?” Malus cut in. “Evidence? Any proof at all that it happened?”

Fuck.

He'd washed it all away. Sent his clothes to the laundry. The only thing anyone might have seen was Gladio stumbling drunkenly out of the ballroom.

“No?” Malus asked. “Then I guess it never happened.”

“Goddamn you!” Gladio roared.  

“Best to let it go, Gladio,” Malus said. “You'll only make a fool of yourself and shame your family.”

Gladio struck at him again, and this time, Malus put him on the mat, face down, and dropped his weight against Gladio's back. His arm was twisted behind him, the strain in his tendons immobilizing.

“Get the fuck off me.”

Malus twisted Gladio's wrist. Pain shot through his elbow and up into his shoulder. Gladio gritted his teeth and growled.

“You're not ready to be a Shield,” Malus said. “I'm sure your father will agree. You need more training. A little discipline”

“Get off me!” Gladio roared. He twisted beneath Malus, then screamed when something snapped in his wrist. “Fuck!”

“Sometimes, it's best to admit defeat. It's a hard lesson for some to learn, but the sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be.”

Gladio stopped fighting. His wrist began to throb.

“That's better,” Malus said. His free hand wandered down Gladio's side. “If I were you, I'd think long and hard about how to handle this. Wouldn't want to make any rash decisions that might affect your career and standing, now would we?”

* * *

He'd torn a tendon in his forearm, a bone in his hand. It prevented him from training for over a week. For the first time, Gladio wasn't sorry for it. It gave him time to put the whole ugly incident out of his mind, and he spent most of his time off re-reading a favorite fantasy series on the couch in his apartment to escape reality for a while.

Ignis came by but Gladio could barely look at him. He brought delicious homemade baked goods to cheer Gladio up, but every bite was a bitter pill. Iggy poured on the affection, but it wasn't so easy to accept.

Gladio couldn't seem to wash it off. He felt dirty, and he was sure Ignis would see it if he looked close enough.

It wasn't Iggy's fault.

None of this was Iggy's fault, but Gladio couldn't force himself to fake it.

“What's going on with you, Gladio?” Ignis asked. “First you drink yourself sick while on duty, then you discontinue your lessons with Malus, and now you're pushing me away?”

“It's not you.”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“It's not you, Iggy,” Gladio snapped.

“It certainly feels like it.”

If there was anyone in the world he could trust, it was Ignis Scientia.

But if he spilled his guts, Iggy would want to do something about it. He would urge Gladio to tell someone, but Malus was right. If he said a word, his future was at risk. With so many watching him, Gladio couldn't afford to be seen as unfit or weak.

He'd just have to put it behind him and work his ass off to make sure he was fit for duty. Then, and only then, he'd go back for Malus and make damn sure the paid for it.

“It's nothing,” Glaido said. “Something I gotta work through on my own.”

“Working through it on your own doesn't have to mean keeping it all to yourself.”

“It's no big deal,” Glaido said. He kissed Ignis on the lips. A brief, dry kiss. No passion. “It's all good.”

There was a split-second flash of hurt in Ignis' eyes before he settled back into the couch and fiddled with the band of his watch. Gladio had given it to him as a gift on his last birthday. Expensive, but it suited him. It looked like the kind of watch the future adviser to the crown might wear. He loved that Iggy wore it.

“On a different note, I have some good news, I think,” Ignis said. “Rather promising.”

“Yeah?” Gladio asked, glad for the change of subject. He pulled Iggy's feet into his lap and began to massage the knots out of his instep. “What's up?”

Ignis groaned softly and leaned back into the arm of the couch, worries forgotten.

“Noctis seems to have made a friend,” Ignis said. He closed his eyes and sighed. “He's loud and rather common, but... Noct's smiling again.”

“Like for real, or that bullshit thing he does?”

“I assure you, it's real,” Ignis said. “He can't stop talking about the boy.”

“They hanging out or what?”

“Only at school, but Noct would like to accompany him to the arcade tomorrow afternoon,” Ignis said. “Perhaps you might join us?”

Gladio grimaced. He liked games and all, but he preferred to play them in the privacy of his own apartment, far away from the screaming kids and the noise.

“You'll want to get to know him,” Ignis reminded him. “If they are to remain friends.”

“Yeah, I should,” Glaido said. “You run all the checks?”

“Indeed,” Ignis said. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Alright,” Gladio agreed. “I'll tag along.”

Ignis slipped his feet from Gladio's lap, pushed him back against the arm rest and draped half his body over Gladio's. Gladio tensed, but relaxed when Iggy lay his head against his chest and stifled a yawn.

“Good,” Ignis said tiredly. "I'd go insane if I had to endure an afternoon at the arcade by myself."  He yawned. "Would you like me to stay over tonight?”

Gladio bit his lip. He could definitely use the comfort of having Ignis beside him, but he wasn't sure about the rest.

“Sure,” Gladio said. “But no foolin' around. Gotta get up early.”

“Of course,” Iggy said and sighed. “It was a rather long day for me as well.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed the tension from the back of Ignis' neck and smiled to himself when Iggy groaned and went limp against him.

“That feels nice,” Ignis murmured.

“Glad to be of service,” he said and cleared his throat. “Hey Iggy? Thanks. For looking out for me.”

Iggy's arm slid around Gladio's waist. The guilt was almost overwhelming, but he didn't want Iggy to let go.

“You'd do the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

* * *

 

  
Noct's new friend was obnoxious. That was Gladio's first impression.

Prompto Argentum was as common as they came, and he seemed almost unaware that he was in the presence of royalty.

He called Noctis _Dude_.

Not “Your Highness,” or “Prince Noctis,” but _dude_ or _buddy_. He couldn't sit still. His posture was terrible. And he was, as Ignis promised, _loud_.

But Noctis was smiling. Relaxed.

Having fun.

Gladio had to admit, it was nice to see Noctis come out of his shell and act like a teenage boy for a change. He even laughed. It had been a long time since Gladio had seen that. Not since Noctis was a little kid. Not like he meant it, anyway.

After a while, Gladio started to see a certain something in Prompto he couldn't put his finger on or find a name for, but there was a liveliness, a joyfulness in him that infected the taciturn Prince. In his presence, Noctis seemed lighter. Happier. That in itself was miraculous.

From time to time, he also saw a certain fragility and insecurity, like the kid couldn't quite figure out how he'd befriended a Prince. He saw it in sidelong glances, and heard it in his awkward attempts to be formal around Iggy.

It was endearing. He seemed like a nice kid. Slowly, Gladio let down his guard and relaxed. Gave in and played a game of table hockey with Ignis.

He shouldn't have.

He would never be able to recall how things escalated so fast, only that one minute, Prompto was loudly claiming a victory, and the next, a twenty-something man had Noctis pinned back against the console of the game they'd been playing.

Prompto wedged himself between them, as if protecting Noct. He did his best to shove the guy back, but he knocked Prompto, all 110 pounds of him, out of the way.

“Dude! What's the big idea?!” Prompto shouted. “We didn't do anything to you!”

Gladio was on the move even before his mind registered the threat. He elbowed Prompto out of the way and inserted himself between the man and Noctis.

“We didn't do anything,” Prompto said. “I swear!”

Gladio held out a hand to silence him and faced down the bully.

“How about you take a walk?” Gladio suggested. “Leave these kids alone.”

“Hell no,” the man said. Gladio detected the scent of alcohol on his breath. “These little brats have been hogging this machine for an hour.”

“And?” Gladio asked. “You didn't think of asking nicely if you could have a turn?”

“Listen, just because the kid's a Prince doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants!”

“You're right,” Gladio said. “And neither can you. You just assaulted the Crown Prince of Lucis, you idiot. Over a video game. You know what the penalty for attacking the heir to the throne is?”

The man shoved Gladio, and Gladio shoved back. Gladio smelled whiskey on his breath. Ignis ushered the stunned Noctis and worried Prompto away from the console. They knew each other and their duties well enough to not need a discussion first.

“Walk away now, and there won't be any trouble.”

“Fuck you, man,” the guy spat.

“Come on,” Gladio said. “Just move on, alright?”

The man picked up a glass. Smashed it against the table. Brandished it like a weapon.

Gladio dodged and the man slashed at him wildly, an untrained, drunken civilian with more balls than sense. It would be easy for Gladio to take him out, and he'd be within his right to do so.

For all the guy's aggression, he was just a drunken idiot. Gladio could seriously hurt him, but he hoped to diffuse the situation instead.

“Look, they're gone, alright?” Gladio said. “Machine's all yours.”

The man slashed again, and this time, Gladio had nowhere to go. He bumped into the game console, felt the sting of glass tearing through his skin, the nerves in his face singing. 

He could have killed the guy without breaking a sweat. Malus taught him a dozen ways to take a life with his bare hands. Even half blinded by the blood pouring into his eye, Gladio could have done any one of those things.

He chose not to.

With an easy sweep of his leg, he knocked the man to the ground and pinned him there, kicking and screaming, until the city police arrived. He couldn't see out of his eye at all, and a heavy pulse beat in the left side of his face. Blood stained the collar of his muscle shirt

Ignis had taken the boys to the car. Gladio, still bleeding heavily from his wound, climbed into the front passenger side. Noctis' eyes were wide and scared. Prompto leaned between the two seats to gape at Gladio's face.

“Holy shit, dude!” Prompto cried. “You're bleeding! Like, a _lot_!”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Gladio said. “I had no idea.”

Ignis gave him a look and lifted a hand from the steering wheel and probed at the wound gently.

“You alright, Gladio?” Noctis asked. His voice shook.

“Fine,” Gladio said. “It's just a scratch.”

“It's more than just a scratch,” Ignis said. He blotted at the wound with his handkerchief. “I believe a visit to the emergency room is in order. Prompto, forgive us, but perhaps your parents could pick you up there?”

“It's cool,” Prompto said. “They're out of town.”

Ignis frowned. He glanced at Gladio.

“You do have homework, do you not?”

“ _Duuuude_ ,” Prompto protested. “The big guy's bleeding all over the place and you're worried about my _homework_?”

“He has a point, Specs,” Noctis said. “That looks pretty bad.”

It felt bad. The wound was swelling. Blood soaked through Iggy's handkerchief.

Ignis relented. He put the car in gear and merged into traffic.

“Hey Gladio?” Noctis said.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Noctis said. “For sticking up for me.”

“I'm an Amicitia,” Gladio said. “It's my duty.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “Still. Thanks.”

As if it was just now dawning on him that Gladio wasn't just a bully of a big brother who forced him out of bed before noon and teased him relentlessly.

“Dude, is it always like this?” Prompto asked Noctis. “The big guy having to beat people off of you, or what?”

“First time,” Noctis said distantly.

Iggy placed his hand on Gladio's knee, just a fleeting touch, and Gladio jumped. He tried not to think about Malus' hands on him, or his own helplessness. Just Ignis and how beautiful he looked tangled up in Gladio's sheets.

* * *

 

Three hours later, Gladio was back in his apartment, his face stitched and healing beneath a heavy bandage, while Ignis filled a bag with ice.

“Go lie down,” Ignis instructed. “Elevate your head.”

Gladio did as he was told. He crawled into bed and allowed Ignis to play caregiver. His injury wasn't that bad. All he really needed was rest, but Ignis needed to feel useful. Gladio was willing to give him that.

“It's going to leave a scar,” Ignis said, disapprovingly. “I fear quite a noticeable one.”

“It's cool. I hear the ladies dig scars.”

“Is that so?”

Gladio opened his uninjured eye.

“What's with the tone?” Gladio asked. “It was a joke.”

“Forgive me for not finding it funny.”

“Iggy -”

Gladio reached for Ignis' hand, but he pulled back, his head bowed and his cheeks flushed.

“You've barely touched me for the last two weeks. What else am I supposed to think?”

Gladio sat up and clutched the bag of ice in his palm.

“You think I'm messing around on you?”

“Are you?”

“Hell no,” Gladio said. “You kidding me?”

“Then tell me what's going on.”

Gladio heaved a sigh. He wouldn't pretend he hadn't put Ignis off since Noctis' birthday gala. He couldn't say why, but every time they got a moment to themselves and things got heated, Gladio slammed on the brakes and Ignis had to settle for his company.

“I...”

Ignis deserved to know, but Gladio couldn't get the words past his lips. The truth would hurt Ignis more than the lie. He would want Gladio to tell someone. Gladio couldn't afford to do that.

“Doubling up on training's taking a lot out of me,” Gladio said. “I can't do my duty as Noct's shield if I can't defend myself.”

“You did a fine job this afternoon,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, but the guy shouldn't have gotten the jump on me at all,” Gladio said. “Which means I got a long way to go. I need to focus.”

“I see.”

Ignis nodded like he agreed. Encouraged, Gladio kept going.

“I can't let myself get distracted, Iggy,” Gladio said. “I love this thing we got going, but Noct's safety comes first.”

“I understand,” Ignis said, his tone flat and cold. “I'll see myself out.”

“I didn't mean-”

“It's alright,” Ignis said. “I have duties of my own to attend to. Perhaps this is for the best.”

“Perhaps _what_ is for the best?” Gladio demanded.

Ignis stood up and straightened his sleeves. Gladio's blood had left a stain, a rusty brown on perfectly starched white.

His face was frigid and formal, his mouth a thin line. The warmth in his eyes faded. Gladio knew him well enough to be afraid.

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me?”

“Isn't that where this is headed?” Ignis asked.

“No!” Gladio said. “Goddamit, no. That's not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Gladio threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. His arms went around Ignis and pulled him in close. Ignis resisted, his body rigid and unbending until Gladio kissed him with every ounce of passion he could muster under the circumstances. Arms circled his neck and Ignis' body softened, his heartbeat a fast but steady pulse against Gladio's chest.

He had to make this right.

His hands went to Ignis' belt, but Ignis pushed them away.

“You need rest, Gladio,” he said breathlessly.

“I need you,” Gladio said. “But listen... if I ever... get too rough or hurt you by accident, tell me, okay? I don't ever want to hurt you...”

Ignis sighed and brushed his thumb over Gladio's lips.

“You haven't,” Ignis said. “But whatever it is you're keeping to yourself has me worried you might.”

“No,” Gladio swore. “No.  Never.”

 

* * *

 

  
Gladio moved on from it as best as he could. He did his best not to allow it to interfere with his relationship with Ignis, but there were times when it got in the way.

He was no longer the adventurous lover he was in the beginning. He hesitated to initiate, preferring to spend their quiet time together snuggled together on the couch watching movies instead of pawing at each other like the hormonal teens they were.

Gladio hated that it still bothered him. The longer he kept his secret to himself, the deeper he buried it, yet the more it manifested in other ways.

He fought with his father. Took it out on Noctis in training. Lost his patience with Iris. Made excuses for why he couldn't come by Iggy's place after the obligations of the day were done.

Every now and then, he crossed paths with Malus, who flashed a threatening and triumphant smile for Gladio's continued silence. Every time, Gladio's concerns and shame were renewed.

He could never tell the truth. Even if he so badly wanted the secret out. Even if Ignis deserved to know the reason for Gladio's obsessive training and lack of response to his physical needs.

Ignis didn't push the issue, but Gladio tried to compensate for it with other things. Extravagant nights out on the town and expensive gifts. When they were intimate, Gladio gave so much more than he got.

He never regretted that part. Not once.

Still, the damage was done. Gone were the days of heated, passionate fucking whenever they were alone. When they did, Gladio was almost excessively gentle, to Iggy's growing irritation.

Ignis tried to be patient, to make it work, but he didn't understand. Meanwhile, Gladio's fears only grew. No one ever prepared him for something like this. No one told him how to deal with it. Guys made jokes about it all the time in the locker room, but not once did he hear any of them take it seriously.

An explanation now, after nearly two years, would sound like another one of his excuses. An investigation, which Ignis would demand, would yield no evidence that it ever happened. If his story was believed at all, his strength and ability to serve as shield would be called into question. If it wasn't, he would be accused of slandering the name of a respected member of the Crownsguard.

It was too late to do anything about it. Whatever window of opportunity he had was now shut tight.

He focused on training. Day in and day out, he trained. Obsessively so.

Slowly but surely, Ignis began to pull away from him. They bickered about stupid things that didn't matter, topics that Gladio couldn't remember later, but the disagreements only widened the rift. Day by day, Gladio was losing his best friend, and short of confessing, which he couldn't do, he didn't know how to fix it. Dinners out and gifts weren't enough.

He had to give Iggy credit. He stuck it out far longer than Gladio deserved. Two years was a long time to wait for an explanation that never came.

* * *

 

Gladio was returning to his apartment just as Ignis was leaving his. Iggy was dressed up. Three piece suit. Pocket square. His best pair of shoes, shined to a mirror finish.

They'd been broken up for just over three weeks. It still smarted. He could barely look at Iggy without wanting to punch a wall. Not because he was angry with Iggy, but angry with himself. He'd ruined the best thing he'd ever had by being such a wuss he couldn't get over something he only half remembered.

Seeing him now, dressed up like he was going on a date was alcohol poured in an open wound.

“Gladiolus,” Ignis said. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave a slight nod. “Good evening.”

Gladio laughed without humor.

“Hot date?”

“A business engagement,” Ignis said. “Castille Malus is considering taking me on as a trainee. He's invited me to dinner.”

Gladio's skin prickled and his stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Don't go anywhere with that guy,” Gladio said. “They call him Captain Grab-Ass for a reason.”

Ignis' eyes narrowed.

“You sound jealous.”

“I'm not fuckin' jealous,” Gladio said. “I'm trying to warn you. I've... heard things about that guy.”

Ignis frowned.  

“I'm aware of his reputation."

Gladio's chest constricted, like a behemoth was sitting on his rib cage.

“Don't go, alright? I don't want you anywhere near him.”

Ignis shifted, straightened his posture and gave Gladio a look so full of pity, Gladio almost lost it.

“I understand you're upset with me,” Ignis said, “but that doesn't mean you can sabotage my professional relationships, too.”

“I'm not-”

“I bid you good night, Gladio,” Ignis said. “I'm going, whether you like it or not.”

He brushed past Gladio, and Gladio reached out to stop him.

"Iggy."

"You're going to make me late."

“Just listen, okay?" He hesitated.  "If... if something should happen, anything that seems weird or makes you uncomfortable, you call me. You don't have to say anything. Just call. I'll come get you.”

Ignis' expression softened.

“I appreciate that,” Ignis said. “But I'll be fine.”

Gladio opened the door of his apartment, already sick with worry.

“Keep your phone on you, Ig. Can you at least do that for me? Promise?”

“Of course.”

Gladio watched Ignis enter the elevator, an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, dug through his pocket for his car keys, and decided to take matters into his own hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and I really appreciate the support.

Gladio followed Ignis' car through the streets of Insomnia, far enough behind that he wouldn't be spotted but close enough he wouldn't lose Iggy in traffic. His personal vehicle was no stand-out. Just a nondescript basic model sedan that could easily be mistaken for a city vehicle. So long as Ignis wasn't looking for him, he was gold.

Ignis parked in front of a fancy restaurant, one of his favorites and one Gladio had taken him to a dozen times over the last year, and handed off his keys to the valet.

They'd never declared the restaurant _their_ place, but in Gladio's mind, it was. It was his go-to for date night, even though he preferred an out-of-the-way diner three blocks down. Ignis was fond of the imported Altissian seafood dishes that could be found nowhere else in the city.

Knowing Iggy was meeting Malus here, of all places, felt like a betrayal. Like Ignis was purposely being petty to hurt him.

He circled the block and parked across the street where he had a good view of the door. From here, he'd be able to see them leave. He hoped Ignis would leave alone. He hoped Malus wouldn't be bold enough to try anything. Then again, he'd drugged a Shield in the presence of not only politicians and nobility, he'd done it right in front of the Royal family. And no one noticed.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and Gladio considered going inside, to the bar, and ordering a drink, but if Ignis saw him, he would be accused of jealousy again. There might be a scene that would embarrass them both.

He would have to face Malus' knowing grin.

Best to wait and hope Ignis would be fine.

An hour and a half passed before the pair left the restaurant. Gladio sat up and started the car, prepared to follow Ignis home and make damned sure he went home alone.

Malus handed his valet token over. Ignis did not.

Iggy's posture was all wrong. Too loose. He swayed a little, and he didn't seem to be responding to whatever Malus was saying. Gladio turned off the engine and opened the door.

A bus stopped directly in front of him, blocking the view. Gladio cursed and dashed through the slow-moving traffic, now terrified and angry with himself for not moving faster, for not being up-front with Iggy in the hall. By the time he reached the curb on the other side, they were gone.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He turned to the Valet. “Those two guys that just left. They say where they were going?”

“The young man had too much to drink,” the Valet said. Gladio loomed over him, and he cowered. “The gentleman said he would see him safely home.”

“Goddammit,” Gladio said.

“Is something wrong?”

But Gladio was already on his way back to his car. He got in, gunned the engine and made an illegal u-turn through traffic, horns blaring, pissed-off driver's middle fingers extended through open windows. He didn't give a damn.

At the intersection, he was unsure of which way to go. Who knew where Malus might take Iggy, but Gladio was almost positive it wouldn't be Iggy's apartment. He wouldn't want to be seen dragging an intoxicated Ignis through the halls of the family wing. It would be somewhere private, where he could do as he pleased without risking too much.

Best guess, Malus was taking him back to his own place. Wherever that was.

Fuck. He didn't know where Malus lived. Shit.

The directory. The Crownsguard had a directory. He had access to it, to be used only in case of emergency, and he'd never had a reason to search it before, but it was worth a shot.

He pulled over and logged into the directory on his phone. Came up with an address only a few blocks from the Citadel. Gladio knew the building.

Fancy. Expensive. _Private_.

Traffic was heavy. Gladio screamed obscenities at other drivers through the closed, tinted windows and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. His only consolation was that maybe they were stuck in traffic, too.

He still had time. He hoped.

Then, Gladio's phone rang.

Ignis.

“You okay? Iggy?”

Ignis didn't say anything. Something rustled, maybe fabric, against the phone's speaker. Strains of music could be heard in the background.

_“Let's take this off, shall we?”_

Malus. His voice muffled. Gladio recognized that soothing tone.

Gladio pressed his forearm to his mouth to keep from screaming.

An eternity passed before he reached the apartment. His blood boiled and adrenaline blitzed through his limbs, leaving his fingers and toes tingling. An almost painful spike of fear throbbed in his chest.

At the door he flashed his credentials at the doorman.

“Is your party expecting you?”

“It's an emergency.”

“Allow me to ring the authorities.”

“Not that kind of emergency,” Gladio snapped, even if it was. “Don't give me any trouble, alright?”

The doorman took an extra hard look at Gladio's Crownsguard badge. Gladio almost punched him, to knock him out cold and save himself some time.

“What apartment number?”

“Rather not say.”

“Sir -”

Something about Gladio's posture changed the doorman's mind. He stepped back and ushered Gladio inside. Gladio stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the 14th floor.

His ascent was like staring at a pot, waiting for water to boil. He might have sprouted a few gray hairs and aged a lifetime before the doors finally opened.

He moved down the hall, taking care to keep his steps light, but his pace quick. Stopped before apartment 1402 and listened. Soft classical music played behind the closed door, loud enough to muffle the sounds of assault. Above the doorknob was a keyless entry unit, the kind that required a card.

Gladio knew all about how to disable these. Monica taught him when he was sixteen. Just for fun.

From his pocket, he withdrew his utility knife, stuck the blade in the slot and poked at the wiring on the left side until the blade cut through.

From the other side of the door, came a low moan. Malus' unintelligible voice, the tone reassuring.

He knew from experience using his body as a battering ram to knock down the door would do more damage to his person than it was worth. Gladio learned the hard way that doors and their respective parts weren't subject to movie physics. Never mind that it would alert Malus to his arrival. He'd have to be careful.  And quiet.

With the utility knife still in hand, he switched to the bottle opener tool and stuck it between the edge of the door and the jamb. He pressed the end of it to the second pin in the bolt until he felt it give, and then slid it aside just enough to turn the knob.

They weren't in the living room. Violins sang from hidden speakers.

Iggy's shoes were beside the door, his jacket, shirt, and pants on the floor beside the couch. Light spilled from a door near the end of a short hallway. A shadow passed over it.

“Just relax,” Malus said. “Don't fight it.”

Gladio pushed the door open slowly, afraid of what he was going to find inside.

It was worse than he thought it would be, actually seeing it with his own eyes. Ignis lay sprawled across the bed, naked, his hips all the way at the edge pf the mattress and his knees hooked over Malus' shoulders. Malus' head bobbed between Iggy's legs, his lips wrapped around Iggy's dick, sucking him so hard, his cheeks went concave.

Iggy's face was turned toward the door, his eyes narrow, watery slits, his lips parted. He gave Gladio no sign he knew he was there, though he was looking directly at him.

Ignis made a soft mewling sound, his hand twitched, and a delayed, white-hot fury split through Gladio's entire body. He rushed forward and hooked his arms beneath Malus' armpits and dragged him away from Ignis. Malus struggled, managed to get a leg between Gladio's and threw him to the floor.

Gladio dragged Malus down with him, rolled, and pinned him down, throwing punches indiscriminately, not caring at all about form or telegraphing or any of the technical things he'd been taught. All he needed was to get one good hit or a solid hold on the guy and he could end the fight in seconds.

Malus slithered away from him and half pushed to his feet, but Gladio grabbed the man by the legs and dragged him back down. Malus' face smashed into the nightstand with a disturbing crack, and he cried out, sagged toward the floor, his mouth bleeding.

Gladio wrapped a thick arm around his neck, his legs wrapped around Malus' torso to pin his arms to his slides, just like he'd been taught, and held on.

Malus thrashed in Gladio's grip, his face going red and then purple and his mouth working around silent screams that were trapped beneath the crushing pressure of Gladio's bicep locked around his throat. Blood trickled from his busted lip and dribbled onto Gladio's forearm. 

“Not so tough now, are you?” Gladio growled.

Malus bucked and wriggled, but Gladio only tightened his hold. He could feel Malus' racing pulse against his calf, his body twitching as it ran out of oxygen.

On the bed, Iggy's fingers flexed like he was reaching out. His cheeks were wet with tears.

This was all Gladio's fault. If he'd just opened his mouth and told the truth, this wouldn't have happened. Ignis would be safe. Gladio would not be about to commit murder on his behalf.

Malus grew limp, still fighting, but weakly.

Gladio held on. Counted the seconds into minutes, his muscles straining with the effort to maintain his hold long enough to be sure it was over, sure that Malus wouldn't pop up at the end for one last gasp like a horror movie villain.

Only when he was positive Malus would not get up did he let go. Malus slumped limply against him and Gladio pushed him away, unexpectedly disturbed by the feel of the man's body against his own.

He paused only to press a pair of fingers to Malus' neck. Violins shrieked in the living room. Percussion vibrated the floor beneath him.

There was no pulse.

Calmer than he had any right to be, his breathing too deep and slow to be normal, Gladio got up on his knees and crawled toward the bed. Ignis' eyes were closed and he was deathly pale, lips tinged blue. Beneath Gladio's fingertips, the pulse at his wrist was weak and slow.

He scooped Ignis off the bed and into his arms. 

“I'm so sorry,” he said into Iggy's disheveled hair. “I'm so goddammed sorry.”

Iggy sighed. A limp hand lay against Gladio's chest. Fingers curled into his shirt.

If this was forgiveness, Gladio didn't deserve it.

He sat there shaking, cradling and rocking Ignis as he began to unravel. He needed to do something, get Ignis out of here, put some clothes on him, give him his dignity, but he'd run out of steam. He settled for dragging the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Ignis, to warm and protect him.

From his pocket, he took out his phone and called his father.

It rang twice.  Clarus answered.

Something about hearing his father's voice pushed him over the edge. He sniffled, then broke. Lost the ability to form coherent words.

“Gladio?” Clarus asked. “Is that you?”

Gladio nodded at the phone, wiped his eyes and took a long, slow breath to calm himself.

“Gladio, what's wrong?”

“I need you, Dad.”

 

* * *

  

Malus had given Ignis some kind of wild game tranquilizer. Enough to kill a catoblepas, according to the doctor. Gladio didn't know if that was a joke or not. If it was, it wasn't funny.

He sat in the critical care unit of Insomnia Memorial Hospital, his eyes still leaking occasionally as a heavy dose of guilt settled in. His father sat beside him, unusually silent for a change. There were no lectures. No questions. Just his solid presence and the occasional chime of messages from his phone.

Clarus had called the authorities. There were questions when they arrived, but Gladio couldn't answer most of them. It didn't matter. It was obvious from Iggy's sorry state what happened.

Gladio stared at a poster about chemical safety until Cor showed up with coffee. He accepted a cup but didn't drink it. Cor sat across from them, his face unreadable as always.

“Come to arrest me?” Gladio asked.

“No. I'm here as a friend.”

“Will he be charged?” Clarus asked stiffly.

“It'll go on record as self-defense,” Cor said. “We're keeping it as quiet as possible.”

“Good.”

His father was clearly pissed, as he had been since he walked into Malus' apartment and found Gladio bawling into Iggy's hair. Now he had a mess to clean up. A mess that could become a scandal if word got out.

Gladio shifted in his seat and got up. He couldn't deal with his father's anger right now. It would only lead to an argument.

“I'm gonna go look in on Iggy. See if there's any news.”

“They'll tell us when there is news,” Clarus said. “ _Sit down_.”

Gladio didn't listen. He walked away, clutching his cup of coffee and went down the hall to the room where Ignis was being cared for. He stood outside the door, watching him sleep through the small window.

He stood there for a long time. The coffee grew cold in its cheap paper cup.

It was after two in the morning when his father came for him.

“Lets go home and get some rest,” Clarus said. “He's stable. You can come see him first thing in the morning.”

Gladio pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd rather stay and take a nap in the chairs down the hall, but he was too run down to argue. He followed his father home instead of going back to his own place and accepted the glass of bourbon Clarus offered.

“It's a good thing you got there when you did. Killing him wasn't the most reasonable solution, but I can't say I wouldn't have done the same,” Clarus said. He wouldn't meet Gladio's eye. “It could have been a lot worse.”

“Yeah.”

Clarus sighed, sipped his drink

“You think you know a person, and then they go and do something like this.”

“Is it really a surprise to you?” Gladio asked, feeling mean. “What did you expect from a guy everyone called _Captain Grab-ass_?”

Clarus looked up, surprised at Gladio's tone.

“Is there something you haven't told us?”

“I know it wasn't the first time he pulled that shit.”

“How do you know that?” Clarus asked slowly, his face draining of color.

Gladio knocked back the bourbon and set the glass down on the coffee table, harder than he meant to. He was wrecked over Ignis, still scared to admit what happened to his father's face, but too angry to hold it in. They needed to know Ignis wasn't the first.

“Gladio? How do you know?”

“I know,” Gladio said, “because he did it to me.”

Clarus sank onto the couch, his mouth open in a way that might have been comical if not for the utter lack of humor in this subject.

“To _you_.”

His father's voice was almost a whisper. He'd gone nearly as pale as Ignis had been.

“Yeah. Except I wasn't so lucky. Not a soul around around to stop him,” Gladio said. “That night you thought I was drunk? At Noct's birthday thing? Yeah. _I wasn't fucking drunk._ ”

Long buried rage resurfaced, stealing away any chance of catharsis he might have felt about finally saying it. It hurt just as much now as it did then. It hadn't gone away.

Clarus stared at him. His knuckles went white around the glass in his hand.

“What are you saying, Gladio?”

Gladio swallowed around the lump in his throat, pushed back the shame, and let his anger ride.

“I'm saying he drugged me and he raped me.”

Gladio could have heard a pin drop on the other side of the Citadel in the silence that followed.

He expected his father to do something or say something, scream or yell, anything but sit there like he'd gone blind, deaf and mute. It was like someone had cast Stop on him.

When he didn't react, Gladio picked up his empty glass and threw it at the wall behind his father's head. The fine crystal exploded against the wallpaper, a glittery spray of fireworks like the ones going off inside Gladio's head. Clarus only flinched.

“Say something, goddammit!” Gladio shouted.

The look Clarus gave him was so full of dead-eyed disappointment, Gladio got up and walked out.

He should have just kept his mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

  
Gladio didn't go home. He went back to the hospital, bought a cup of shitty coffee and waited outside Iggy's room. Every now and then, he got up to stare though the window at his friend's pale face.

There were tubes in his nose and an IV running into his arm. Fluids, the nurse told him. He would wake up soon, probably with one hell of a hangover, but he'd be back to normal in a day or two.

It was just after sunrise when a nurse finally took pity on him and allowed him inside the room. He rolled the doctor's stool up next to the bed and sat, clutching Iggy's cold, slender hand in his until the doctor came in and shooed him away.

He didn't want to leave, but he needed a shower and some sleep. He trudged back to his apartment, his eyes burning and his heart in shambles.

Iris was asleep on his couch, small, skinny, and in moogle footie pajamas that were so big, they looked like they might fit him better.

She woke when he dropped his keys on the table beside the door, yawned and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“How'd you get in, Shorty?” he asked.

She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, looking guilty and worried at the same time.

“Stole dad's key card.”

He sat down on the couch beside her and dropped an arm around her shoulders. He didn't mind her being here, so long as she didn't go snooping and find his porn magazines or steal his books, but he had to wonder why she'd decided to break in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Heard you and dad fighting,” she said. “Thought maybe you needed someone to talk to. Then I fell asleep waiting for you to come back.”

He sighed and pressed his face into the top of her head. She was growing up too fast, but he was glad that the woman she was becoming was someone kind and empathetic.

“Want me to make you breakfast while you tell me what happened?”

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry.”

“Okay... Should I be worried, Gladio?” she asked. “Dad looked really weird. Like he was going to hit someone.”

Iris was twelve going on thirty. She'd gotten her period a few months back, and he didn't like thinking about how fast or how much her body had changed in the last year. He wanted her to stay a kid and not have to worry about the gross shit men did and said to women. He wished he could protect her from that, be her Shield, too, but he couldn't smother her or hide her from the world, either. 

“I wanna talk to you about something,” Gladio said. “It's important.”

“Okay,” Iris said. “But we're gonna have to talk over breakfast, because I'm seriously starving. How about some pancakes?”

“Pancakes sound great,” he lied.

Gladio might not be there to protect her when she needed it. He couldn't hold her hand every second of the day. What he _could_ do was make sure she knew what to do if someone tried anything. And let her know that she could always come to him, without shame or fear, if something happened. He didn't want her to be as afraid as he'd been, or leave her to figure it out on her own, or worry that it would make her less in his eyes. He wanted everything for her that he didn't get. Everything he didn't allow himself to get. 

They talked over fluffy pancakes drizzled in melted butter and maple syrup. Gladio discovered she knew way more about those things than he had at her age. At least she was aware, but it bothered him that she needed to be. She'd already been subjected to harassment from boys at school and that pissed him off.

Iris cried when he told her what Malus did to him. Her skinny arms went around his waist and she held on for a long time.

“I love you, Gladdy,” she said. “I'm so sorry that happened to you.”

“Love you back, Shorty,” he said and affectionately mussed her hair. "And thanks."

She was the last person he expected to comfort him, or even understand it, but there they were, hugging in his kitchen at 8 am, and he felt a hell of a lot better because of it.

 

* * *

 

  
After his talk with Iris, Gladio showered, napped on the couch, and got up just after lunch to go see if Ignis was awake.

His father was already there.

“He's still asleep,” Clarus said.

He wouldn't look at Gladio. Gladio stood there for a minute, waiting for his father to do more than stare at the wall, but Clarus wouldn't look at him.

Gladio turned around and walked out. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation, even if he wanted to scream at his father for being so cold. He was there for Ignis, so why couldn't he be for his own son?

It didn't matter. He didn't need to be told what a disappointment he was. He just wanted to move on, reconcile with Ignis, and forget it ever happened.

“Gladio, wait.”

“Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it.”

He left the hospital, jumped on the subway and rode it around the entire city twice before he grew too hungry to keep running away. He grabbed some take-out and went home with plans to eat then head back to see if Iggy was awake yet.

This time, it was his father waiting on the couch instead of Iris.

“What the hell's the point of having my own place if you and Iris keep breaking in?”

“So that's where my spare went.”

Gladio tossed his keys and his wallet on the counter. Turned his back on his father and looked out the window at the view of the city.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Clarus said. “For the way I reacted.”

“You didn't react. You just sat there,” Gladio said to the window. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could have used a few more hours of sleep. “Sorry I let you down, dad. We done here?”

“Why would you think you let me down?”

“I saw the way you looked at me,” Gladio said. “Guess I'm a great big disappointment to you, huh? Too weak to do my job.”

“No,” Clarus said quietly. “I'm proud of you, Gladio. I've always been proud of you.”

What could he be proud of? Gladio certainly wasn't proud of himself.

“I'm the one who let you down,” Clarus said. “I wasn't prepared to deal with hearing something like that. I didn't know... _how_ to react.”

“Yeah, well,” Gladio said. “You might'a also thought about talking to me about that shit years ago.”

“You were a big kid. And my son” Clarus said. “I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to try.”

“You were wrong,” Gladio said. “Bet you never talked to Iris about it either.”

“I was planning on it.”

“Don't bother. I already did,” Gladio said. He sneered at his father. “You know she's already had some high school boy try to grope her on the bus?”

Clarus sighed.

“No,” he said softly. “I didn't know that. Is she... okay? Do I need to handle it?”

“She already did,” Gladio said. “Broke the kid's thumb. Gave him a black eye.”

“That's my girl,” Clarus said, with a soft smile that fell as fast as it came. “Why didn't you come to me, Gladio?”

“How was I supposed to?” Gladio asked. “ _A weak Shield protects naught_. Isn't that what you told me my whole life?”

“That's not what I meant.”

Gladio turned back to the window.

“He used that against me, you know. I wanted to tell someone, but... he asked me how I was supposed to protect Noctis if I couldn't protect myself. Thought maybe he was right.”

Clarus placed a hand on Gladio's shoulder. All the fight went out of him and he bowed his head. It was Ignis he thought of. The way he looked last night, so pale and vulnerable. Even now, Gladio wanted to protect him from the fallout, keep him bundled up tight where no one could ever touch him again.

“Besides, who would believe someone got the jump on me?” Gladio asked. “Big guy like me... Who would believe that, Dad?”

The hand on his shoulder tightened.

“Forgive me,” Clarus said.

When Gladio turned around to face his father again, Clarus was crying.

It was the first time Gladio had ever seen his father cry. Maybe Clarus cried behind closed doors, after Gladio's mother died, but if he did, he never showed.

He wanted to stay pissed at his father so he wouldn't have to be pissed at himself, but he couldn't stand the sight of his father's tears.

“Aww, dad,” Gladio sighed. “Don't do that.”

And then, he was crying too, in his father's arms, like a little boy who'd woken from a bad dream.

 

* * *

 

  
He told Clarus as much as he remembered. From the beginning. About the training sessions. The unwanted touching. The come-on in the gym.

It was hard for Clarus to hear, but harder to say all of it, out loud, without feeling filthy all over again. He wanted another shower and a stiff drink, but he headed out to see Ignis instead.

This time, Iggy was awake. Noctis and Prompto were already there keeping him company. Prompto sat backwards in a chair, draped over the backrest, playing cards with Ignis. Noctis had claimed the chair by the window, idly punching buttons on his phone. On the table beside Ignis was some kind of plant with a big blue bow wrapped around the pot.

“Heyaz, big guy,” Prompto greeted.

“S'up?” Noctis said without looking up.

“What are you two knuckleheads doing here? Don't you have homework?”

“We heard Iggy was sick, so we came to cheer him up,” Prompto said. “Can't leave a buddy hanging, you know?”

“And you thought showing your ugly mugs would help with that?”

“Yepper,” Prompto said with a grin. “I'd say he's looking better already.”

Ignis threw down a card. Prompto groaned dramatically and dropped his face against the back of the chair.

“Are you sure you've played this before?” Ignis asked.

“Only a thousand times!”

“I can't tell.”

“The hell are you all the way over there for?” Gladio asked Noctis.

“Iggy's contagious. Stomach bug. Don't want to catch it.”

Stomach bug. Nice cover.

“It's not contagious,” Ignis said. “I assure you.”

Gladio forced himself to look at Ignis, the edge in his voice discernible only to him. Then the guilt got him and he had to look away. His conversations with his family had been hard, but this one was going to be the hardest.

“Noctis, Prompto. Would you excuse us for a while?” Ignis asked. “There's something I need to discuss with Gladio in private.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Prompto said and gathered the cards. “Noct, let's go check out the cafeteria. Maybe grab a bite?”

“Why? It's all gross. Like... broccoli casserole and stuff.”

“Dude, have you ever met a vegetable you liked?”

“Not a single one.”

“What about potatoes?”

“Potatoes don't count.”

“Dude, you _do_ know potatoes are a vegetable, right?”

He shoved Noctis affectionately. Noctis shoved him back.

Gladio watched them leave, bickering all the way, then closed the door behind them.

He took Prompto's abandoned chair and turned it around, sat, and reached for Iggy's hand. Ignis refused and balled his fist in his lap.

That was to be expected, Gladio supposed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Rather unwell,” Ignis said. “The last hour has been a struggle.”

“Yeah. More than thirty minutes with Prompto will do that to you.”

“So will animal tranquilizers.”

Gladio's hope that this would be easy died a quick death. Ignis wouldn't look at him.

“When they letting you out?”

“Pending a few tests,” Ignis said. “I should be released this evening.”

Gladio poked at the plant beside the bed. It was pleasantly fragrant, but not exactly attractive, with long skinny leaves and woody stalks.

“The hell is this?”

“A get-well gift from Prompto,” Ignis said.

“Kinda ugly. What happened to flowers or whatever?”

“It's rosemary,” Ignis said. “It's an herb. For cooking.”

Gladio was actually touched that Prompto would not only think to bring a gift, but one Ignis would appreciate. He smelled the plant. Woodsy. Almost like pine.

“Kid's a dumbass, but his heart's in the right place, I guess,” Gladio said.

“Indeed.”

Ignis stared at the sheets, his cheeks and ears bright pink. He still wouldn't look at Gladio.

“Hey, you don't need to be ashamed,” Gladio said. “Alright? I'm never gonna think less of you for it.”

Ignis rubbed the edge of the sheet between his thumb and forefinger.

“I barely remember it.”

That might be a blessing. Gladio would give anything to have those memories erased.

“I spent a great deal of supper last night wondering why you warned me,” Ignis said. He lifted his gaze from the sheets and met Gladio's eye. “You knew what he had planned.”

“Not for sure,” Gladio said. “I didn't think he'd be that bold.”

“Yet you didn't think I needed more details?” Ignis asked. “You knew and you let me go in blind.”

Ignis' hand balled up in the sheet and his jaw twitched.

“I know, and I'm sorry.”

“ _You should have told me!_ ” Ignis roared.

Gladio flinched.

He'd seen Ignis mad before, but never like this. His fists shook against his thighs and his eyes were wide and wild. If he wasn't still under the weather and Gladio wasn't just out of reach, he suspected Ignis might take a swing.

“I'm sorry Igs,” Gladio said. He squeezed his eyes shut. “This is my fault, and I'm so damn sorry... ”

“Sorry...” Ignis said slowly. “Sorry will never be enough.”

Ignis might as well have punched him. It would have hurt so much less, but Gladio deserved Iggy's wrath. He deserved it if he never spoke to him again.

“I know.”

“Get out of my sight,” Ignis said.

“Iggy...”

“Don't you _dare_ ask for my forgiveness,” Ignis said. He wiped his eyes. “Now please go. I need to be alone.”

Gladio would have done anything to take it back. Anything.

But the thing that hurt the most, after everything that had happened, was the look of utter betrayal on Ignis' face.

Gladio rubbed at his wet cheeks with the heels of his hands and got up.

At the door, he paused.

“They tell you about Malus?”

“What about him?” Ignis asked darkly.

“He's dead.”

Ignis' murderous expression shifted to surprise.

They hadn't told him.

“Dead,” Ignis said, like he was trying the word out for the first time. “How?”

“I killed him,” Gladio said. He opened the door. “See ya 'round, Igs.”

 

* * *

 

  
The next few days were tough. Gladio avoided Ignis as best as he could, but they crossed paths a few times.  Ignis either ignored him or stared back so coldly, Gladio caught a chill.

Guilt was eating away at him, worse than before. It was worse than the shame.The more he tried not to think about all the ways he could have prevented it, the more his silence and mistakes nagged at him.

He'd make it up to Ignis. He just wasn't sure how.

He had dinner with his father for the first time in more than a year, hoping to repair the rift between them. If he couldn't fix his relationship with Ignis, there was still hope for him and Clarus.

It was a private meal, just the two of them and a bottle of bourbon, and less like a father-son dinner and something closer to a couple of old friends getting together after a long absence.

They didn't talk about Malus until they were both a few drinks in. And only to discuss how his death was being handled.

There was an investigation. The news had picked up the story, but all parties involved were to remain unnamed. The official statement from the Citadel said Malus had been killed in self-defense by an unidentified male victim. No details of the circumstances were shared with the media.

Since then, two others had come forward with stories that were awfully similar. The youngest was seventeen when it happened, the other had been assaulted after Gladio. According to his father, the young man's silence was bought with threats of never becoming Crownsguard if he mentioned it.

He felt bad about that. Keeping his mouth shut had hurt someone else. Not just Iggy. Not just himself. One more thing to feel guilty about.

Clarus suspected there were more that hadn't spoken up yet. That Malus had been doing this for a while. Gladio agreed.

“Ignis seems to have bounced back,” Clarus said. “I saw him at council today. He looked well.”

“Yeah, that's Iggy. Nothing slows him down for long.”

“I've noticed the two of you seem to have drifted apart,” Clarus said. “Have you talked to him? Told him anything?”

“No,” Gladio said. “He's pretty pissed at me."

“He's your best friend, Gladio,” Clarus said. “He'll forgive you if you talk to him.”

“Not so sure he will. I don't blame him, either,” Gladio said. “If I'd told him, it wouldn't have happened at all.”

“Talk to him.”

“You don't know how stubborn he is,” Gladio said. “He's colder than Shiva's tits when wants to be.”

“As if you aren't the most hard-headed Amicitia that ever walked the face of Eos.”

Gladio laughed.

“Came by it honestly, Dad.”

“You got it from your mother.”

“Yeah, sure. Blame it on Mom,” Glaido said. “Besides. Who's the guy who still refuses to text?”

“I have a phone. Why do I need to text when I can call?”

“Saves time.”

“It's impersonal.”

“Whatever.”

Clarus smiled and poured another round of bourbon.

 

* * *

 

Gladio sat at his kitchen table, a steaming Cup Noodles in front of him waiting to be devoured, but he was distracted by the thick, black envelope laying beside it. Inside were two tickets to the Insomnia Orchestra's Winter Solstice performance.

He'd bought the tickets on a whim, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Iggy might speak to him again if presented with front row tickets to a sold-out show. They weren't cheap, but the cost didn't matter. Ignis loved the orchestra.

The last time Gladio had taken him, over two years ago, he'd given Gladio the most incredible blowjob he'd ever had in the car on the way home.  So good, in fact, Gladio ran two red lights and almost hit a mailbox before he pulled over and let Iggy finish him off.

Gods, he missed Iggy's reckless side. 

He couldn't summon the courage to ask. He'd run into Ignis that morning and had gotten nothing more than a frosty stare in return for his greeting. No calls. No texts. Not even a snarky “Good day.”

They still had to work together, and that only added to Gladio's burden. How were they supposed to do their jobs if they couldn't even speak to one another?

He picked up the envelope and decided to bite the bullet. He'd swing by Ignis' apartment. Present him with the tickets and hope it would be enough to open the lines of communication back up.

Because, Gods, he missed Iggy. Not just as a lover. He missed his best friend. Missed staying up late to watch movies, only to have Ignis fall asleep halfway through. Missed his unguarded laughter, the way he got worked up and judgy when they listened to the news. He missed talking him off the ledge after he found Noctis' apartment a disaster yet again. All those things, and so many more.

He'd beg, if he had to. Get on his knees. Swear an oath. Kiss his feet. Suck him off. Whatever. Anything. 

The message chime on his phone went off as he pitched the cold, bloated noodles in the trash and stuffed his feet into his boots.

It was from Ignis. The first in over a week, the last a terse message concerning Noctis, days before Iggy's ill-fated dinner with Malus.

_Are you available?_

Gladio messaged back.

_Always got time for you, Igs. Come by if you want._

He kicked the boots off and set about tidying up. Not that his place was that messy. Maybe a little disorganized, and maybe he'd left a dirty dish or two in the sink, his socks on the bathroom floor, amd books piled on the end tables, but it was nothing like the mess Iggy was used to seeing at Noct's place. Still, Gladio wanted to make a good impression, and not give Iggy reason to focus on the state of the apartment. Or Gods forbid, start cleaning.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Gladio counted to ten. Took a deep breath. Opened the door.

Ignis waited on the other side, a cloth covered cart beside him. Something smelled delicious.

He looked up at Glaido, almost shyly, the way he had on their first date, when Gladio got in his personal space to kiss him, both wine drunk and more innocent than they were now.

“Hey,” Gladio said.

“Hello,” Ignis said formally. “May I come in?”

Gladio opened the door wider and invited him in. Ignis pushed the cart inside.

“You brought food.”

“No, I've kidnapped a member of the Kingsglaive,” Ignis said dryly. “Thought perhaps we could use him as a training dummy.”

“Please tell me it's Nyx.”

“Only in your dreams.”

Gladio smirked.

Ignis shifted and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“I...” he began, still too uncertain for Gladio's liking. “I was trying out a new recipe. It's nothing Noct would eat, and I'm afraid I made too much...”

“So you want me to taste test for you?”

“If you would.”

“You didn't poison it, did you?”

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn't be so subtle as to poison your food,” Ignis said stiffly.

“Yeah? How would you do it?”

“A dagger to the heart, of course.”

“Efficient.”

Ignis struggled not to smile. “Immediate.”

Gladio did smile. That was the Iggy he loved. Confident. A smart-ass.

“Gods, I've missed you.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence settled in. Gladio toyed with his wallet chain, while Ignis stared at Gladio's socks. There was a hole in one of them. Was probably driving him nuts.

“I want to apologize,” Ignis said. “I should have put the pieces together a long time ago. Instead, I was too focused on my own shortcomings to read between the lines and recognize how much you needed me.”

Ignis shuffled his feet.

“Will you forgive me?” he asked softly.

“Aww, Igs. There's nothing to forgive,” Glaido said. “I should be the one begging your forgiveness.”

“I should be furious with you.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed. “Wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again.”

“Yes, well, a heads-up would have saved us both a lot of trouble,” Ignis said, “but, I am grateful you were there when I needed you. I do wish... I'd been able to be there for you when it counted.”

“You're here now,” Gladio said. “I'm good with that.”

Ignis ran a hand over the sheet covering the cart. Whatever was under there smelled good enough to be distracting.

“What I _am_ upset about, is the fact that you didn't feel safe enough with me to tell me the truth.”

Gladio slumped onto the arm of his recliner. He looked at the floor.

“It wasn't that I didn't feel safe,” Gladio said. “Or that I didn't trust you.”

“Then what stopped you?” Ignis asked. “I've never known you to keep silent about something like that.”

“You're good at figuring shit out, Iggy,” Gladio said with a sigh. “I bet you already know the answer.”

Ignis rubbed his chin, the way he often did when he was lost in thought.

“I suppose I do,” Ignis said after a moment. “That... must have been devastating. To live with it all this time...”

“Wasn't easy,” Gladio said.

“I'm so sorry.”

Gladio sighed and ignored the stinging in the corners of his eyes.

“It's over,” Gladio said. “Water under the bridge, right?”

“In time, I suppose.”

“What about you?” Gladio asked. “How are you holding up?”

Ignis removed the sheet covering the cart and set a pair of plates on the table. A metal cover hid the dish, but Gladio took note of the bottle of wine and the cheesecake on a fancy cake plate.

He definitely didn't make that for Noct. It was Gladio's favorite.

“I honestly don't remember leaving the restaurant,” Ignis said. “Everything else is a blur. Like a bad dream. I keep telling myself that it was.”

He placed a pair of wine glasses on the table.

“You don't remember it?” Gladio asked.

“I remember you,” Ignis said softly. “I've never seen you look so afraid before. And I remember... you holding onto me.”

Ignis' throat bobbed and his hands flexed at his sides. He exhaled slowly, through his mouth. His cheeks flushed. Maybe he remembered more than he was saying.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “What else?”

“That's all,” he said. “There's nothing else.”

Gladio wished he could say the same. His own memory was still spotty, but what he remembered was enough.

Ignis bowed his head.

“If I feel this awful about it, I can't fathom how you must have felt,” Ignis said. He lowered his voice. “I feel... _violated_ , and he didn't even finish the job. Maybe I've no right to feel that way, but I do.”

Gladio understood. Just because Malus didn't get to do what he meant to do, it didn't invalidate his intent. Nor did it invalidate the trauma of being drugged and assaulted. Ignis had every right to feel violated by that.

"You feel how you feel," Gladio said. "Who am I to tell you you're wrong?"

He opened his arms.

“Come here, Igs.”

Ignis didn't move.

“How did you know where I was?”

“I followed you.”

Ignis frowned, then gave a soft laugh. Gladio let his arms rest at his sides.

“Of course you did. I should have suspected.”

“Yeah. You should have,” Gladio said. “I fucked up, but I'll always have your back.”

Another long silence passed between them. Gladio shifted on the armrest and laid his hands against his thighs. As bad as he wanted to give the guy a hug, he wasn't going to touch without permission. If Ignis needed physical comfort, Gladio would have to wait for Ignis to come to him.

“No more secrets,” Ignis said. "Understood?"

“No more secrets, huh?” Gladio said and scratched his chin. Three weeks of stubble covered his jaw. Iggy probably hated it. “Does that apply to everything?”

“Why wouldn't it?”

“Well... Maybe Noct made me promise not to tell you about his stash of Kenny Crow porn...” he teased.

“You're awful.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ignis lifted the cover on the meal. Gladio's mouth watered.

Tenebraean Strip Steak, thick cut, rare. Roasted potatoes with rosemary, courtesy of Prompto, steamed green beans with garlic and sea salt. Not a new recipe. Noctis would never refuse that steak.

Ignis had cooked it specifically for him. This was Iggy's forgiveness. How he asked for forgiveness in return. If Gladio was lucky, they could start over, move on, and heal. Because they were definitely stronger together, two sides of a coin, served different but complimentary roles, and Gladio didn't want to face a future where that unity was compromised.

“Iggy, I don't deserve you.”

“Of course you don't,” Ignis said, a slight smirk on his lips. “Shall we eat?”

Gladio smiled.

“Hell yeah.”


End file.
